


Dancing in the Golden Light

by thetravelinglemon100



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Dancing, F/M, I have no idea, Legends, Moon, Stuff, smooth there, sun - Freeform, yes stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 04:18:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1537256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetravelinglemon100/pseuds/thetravelinglemon100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He waited, patiently, in the cool air and the cloud-covered moonlight, watching the horizon for what he knew was coming. A stray streak of gold, and he could see her, dancing on her horizon as she always did; dancing towards him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing in the Golden Light

**Author's Note:**

> So I came up with this sort of based off something I read ages ago (that I can’t find) and a legend I heard something about (but again can’t find - if you know what I’m talking about message me so I can reference it please).  
> Enjoy!

He waited, patiently, in the cool air and the cloud-covered moonlight, watching the horizon for what he knew was coming. A stray streak of gold, and he could see her, dancing on her horizon as she always did; dancing towards him.

Her hair shone, brighter than gold or any earthly thing, bright enough to blind any mortal who stared at her beauty for too long. It fell in ringlets about her face and down her back, and they whipped out behind her as she danced. Her tanned cheeks were flushed from the exertion, just as they always were, and, though he couldn’t see them from where he stood, he knew she had a few small freckles on her nose. Her dress, pure white today, almost blinding in its whiteness, billowed around her as she spun, and jumped, and skipped. Sometimes she wore grey, and occasionally pale blue, but he loved her best when she wore white.

Her bare feet danced slowly closer, skipping and stomping and jumping and dancing from pure joy at being alive. Wherever her feet touched she brought with her the warmth, and the bright golden light that so defined her. She lingered a little today, but he didn’t mind as he watched the soft pinks and oranges spread from where her feet fell, painting her surroundings so many different shades of colour. It almost hurt his eyes to look, but he could manage, and even if he couldn’t he’d look anyway, for as long as he could. She always danced, always, and he was always entranced.

She kept dancing, still drawing closer but no longer painting colours in her wake. She let out a delighted, musical laugh when she saw him, and spun closer, wanting to reach him but not wanting to hurry her dance. As ever, when she was but a few steps away, he opened his arms, and she danced right into them, her hand fitting his perfectly, her other hand resting comfortably on his shoulder, and his other hand on her waist.

Then, the real dance began.

He spun her round once, twice, three times, her dress flowing out behind her and her laughter ringing in his ears, then their feet and bodies were moving in time, not in time to music, since the only music they ever had was her laughter, but in time to each other. Their bodies flowed in well practiced movements, sometimes pressed together, sometimes arm’s length apart, never letting go of each other. He heard himself laughing and, in the joy of the moment, spun her round once more, delighting in her surprised giggle.

Somehow they always knew when their dance had reached the halfway mark; in sync, they slowed. He pulled her closer with the hand on her waist, and she rested her head on his shoulder. All the while they said nothing, but in that moment, they were perfectly content.

As always, he leant in and dipped her, the arm round her waist holding her secure, making sure she always felt completely safe, and that he’d never let her fall. As always she gave a surprised laugh and a wide, joyful smile as he dipped her.

The next moment, though, changed each time they met. He leant closer, keeping his eyes open, offering her his lips, and with them, his heart: if he was lucky, she would bless him with a kiss. And it seemed that today he was lucky, as she stretched her neck a little and chastely pressed her lips to his, closing her eyes as she did so. Even as she kissed him, she could see through her eyelids the oranges and pinks spread further and grow deeper, just as they always did when they kissed. Sometimes the kisses were deeper, and there would be reds and yellows splashed across the sky as well, but sometimes there were no kisses at all, instead a loving smile and a burst of golden sunlight.

She reached her hand up, briefly stroking his cheek and brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead as they held the kiss just that one moment longer.

Then they were pulling away, and he lifted her back up, and their dance resumed, just as lively and joyful as before. Their dancing never changed, no matter which face he wore. Today, she’d noticed, he wore his brown curly hair longish, and he had those eyes she couldn’t help but get lost in. Sometimes his hair was white, or blonde, or so short she could barely make out the colour. Sometimes he was her height, sometimes inches taller, and sometimes he had a stronger build than others. Sometimes he had glasses, or wore frills, or carried an umbrella. Today he wore pale grey, but sometimes the grey was darker, or sometimes it was a beautiful deep blue and, whilst she preferred him in the blue, she loved all his faces, and the way he changed with the night sky.

Their dance was coming to an end, as it always had to, and she could feel it in the way he gripped her a little tighter that he didn’t want to let her go. Neither of them liked their dance to end, but knowing they would dance again together the next day always gave them hope and strength.

With one last smile, she spun away from, back into the golden light as he continued alone the way they had been heading. She always danced when she walked along the horizon, partially for him and partially to express her own joy at the new day. He, on the other hand, didn’t always dance. Sometimes he would dance, just for her, looking back at her longingly and lovingly as his feet and body moved. Other times, though, like today, he watched her spin away and then walked towards his own horizon, some times slower than others, but today the pace wasn’t too slow or regretful, and she smiled, knowing the kiss had cheered him.

He reached the horizon, and she could see his silhouette highlighted by the fading moonlight. He did a brief skipping dance along the horizon, in farewell, then he was gone, and she was left dancing alone to celebrate and welcome the new day.


End file.
